


Arrow, straight and true

by fuzzytomato



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/fuzzytomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the kink_me prompt - Arthur/Merlin, Merlin shot with an arrow. On a trip, in the middle of or after a battle, or just in the middle of the courtyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrow, straight and true

One minute it was playful shoving, Arthur’s hands on Merlin’s shoulders, pushing him in retaliation for a sharp tongued insult, both of them chuckling as they walked down the deer path in the woods under the guise of hunting, the Knights of Camelot several yards in front of them, oblivious (or ignoring) the prince and his manservant’s antics as they trudged through the undergrowth. The next it was a volley of arrows, frantic shouts, the ring of metal being drawn from a scabbard, _chaos_ , and Arthur’s playful smile sliding from his face into the tight-lipped fierce expression of a warrior in battle as the woods erupted. It was Merlin at his side, clumsy, hapless with a filched sword, but brave all the same. It was the clang of metal, the sweet iron-sharp tang of blood and the scream of arrows slicing in the air, straight and true, and the sound of the wet, _thunk_ as they found their marks, imbedding into soft flesh.

It was quick, bloody and brutal but it was over and when Arthur turned, victorious, ready to clap Merlin on the back in a show of camaraderie and affection, it was suddenly not nearly as triumphant.

He was hunched on the ground, one pale hand curled around the shaft of an arrow protruding from his right shoulder, beneath the collarbone, crimson already seeping around the tear in the blue cloth of his tunic, staining long fingers red, while the other was clamped in the undergrowth, knuckles white from the force of his grip. Arthur was kneeling next to him in an instant, the leather of his breeches sinking into the moist earth as he bent to inspect the wound. Not instantly life threatening and the knot in his chest unraveled slightly, but potentially dangerous and painful as hell.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, soothed, running a gentle hand over the straining tendons in his manservant’s forearm.

Merlin stuttered out a breath, bit back a whimper, eyes screwed shut, and jaw clenched and Arthur was proud of him for trying to remain stoic but it was Merlin and he was no knight and tears gathered at the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Arthur said, voice strained, oddly husky, “just a scratch. We might not even need to bother Gaius over it.”

Merlin barked out a surprised laugh. “Only you would call this a scratch,” he answered, before gasping, biting at his lip, making red indents with his teeth.

“Only you would get shot by those terrible marksmen. Really, Merlin, I knew you didn’t like hunting but this is bordering on ridiculous.”

A ghost of a smile, remnant of the one only minutes before, then a shudder and a groan.

Arthur took his glove off with his teeth, slid his warm hand into Merlin’s, his palm and fingers clammy, and lightly squeezed.

“I’ll see you safe, Merlin,” he said, leaning forward, his forehead resting against Merlin’s bowed head, lips brushing across the soft skin of Merlin’s temple, coal-colored hair fluttering in time with Arthur’s breaths. He stayed that way, even as he heard the sound of his knights approaching, the crunching, hurried footsteps, the unmistakable whisper of chainmail beneath fabric and amidst the anxious calls of _sire!_ , Arthur heard the whispered, pain filled reply.

“I know.”


End file.
